There's Never a Wish Better Than This
by singsongsung
Summary: Oneshot set after 2x19. Serena/Nate with mentions of CBN, NV, and DS. Just one night. That's all they ever get.


**A/N:** It was begging to be written. Reviews are love.

_There's Never a Wish Better Than This_

Serena van der Woodsen was a well-known rule-breaker. She was a rebel in an endearing sort of why; having grown up with everything handed to her instantly, she'd had to find new ways to act out as a child. And as she grew older, that wildness became a natural part of her personality. She liked to have fun. The world's rule didn't apply to her.

However, she did set down a few of her own guidelines. Basic ground rules to guide her life.

No falling for her best friend's boy.

No sleeping with her best friend's boy.

No skipping school just to lie in bed all day with someone she loves; if she was going to skip it had to be for something suited to her rebellious reputation.

No jumping off a boat with the boy she's secretly crushing on, holding his hand and squealing like they're in some kind of cheesy teen movie that only eleven-year-old girls will ever really love.

No joining Couples Book Club in the Hamptons.

No taking what everyone else seems to think belongs to someone else.

…but Nate had always been her exception.

* * *

She's lying in bed idly flipping through the latest copy of _Vogue_ when he shows up. Her phone has finally stopped buzzing with texts from Chuck demanding to know what happened in Santorini and what's going on with Blair – she takes this as a good sign and relaxes.

And then Nate walks into her room, wearing a smile that's almost sheepish. "Hey," he says, and she realizes how much she's missed his voice. There is a warmth about it that reminds of her of their childhood, sleeping on the same bed, fighting over the same teddy bear.

He always let her win.

She smiles back, her eyes raking over her body. "Look at you," she says, gesturing to his family-crested blazer and expensive slacks before glancing down at her own apparel – nothing more than pale pink, very short shorts and an old, grungy t-shirt. Usually she's all about the lacy slips, but she just wants comfort tonight. "I feel underdressed," she comments, wiggling her eyebrows.

"I'm not complaining," he jokes, lifting his eyebrows as well. He pulls off his blazer and tosses it onto the floor.

Serena grins softly. "Get in here," she says fondly, lifting her blankets so that he can crawl into bed with her. He returns her grin and obliges with more force that necessary, making her mattress creak and bounce. She rolls her eyes at his antics. "What brings you here?" she asks quietly on an exhale.

He looks as if he truly doesn't know. "I guess I missed you."

"You guess?"

"I _know_."

"Much better." She sizes him up in her peripheral vision, trying to detect what, if anything, is wrong. "How's Vanessa?"

"Angry. Hurt." He closes the topic, turning the tables: "How's Dan?"

A smile plays on her lips. "He hurt me. I'm angry."

Nate chuckles. "I saw you slap him."

She blushes. "He had it coming. And I have to admit, it felt kinda good."

"Did it?" he asks, turning his head to fully face her, leering slightly.

"Stop," she giggles, gently touching his cheek, pushing lightly at his face. Her amusement fades away and she looks at him seriously. "You're going to be okay. You know?"

"You, too." He reaches for her hand under the blankets and gives it a squeeze; she finds herself wishing he wouldn't let go.

"Nate…" she scrutinizes his face. "Come on, tell me what's going on with you. I know there's something."

He makes a face. "Blair…propositioned me tonight."

Her jaw drops and her eyes sparkle with mirth even as she feels that familiar tug on her heartstrings at the mention of Nate and Blair, together without her. "She did not."

"Oh, she did."

"I'm guessing you said no."

"Well…hell, yeah. I mean, I have Vanessa, and Blair is…"

"A mess?"

"Well, yeah. And besides, she and Chuck are…well, you know what they are."

"Extremely screwed up but somehow lucky at the same time?" she guesses playfully.

He rolls his eyes and teases, "Look at the way you say that, like you and I are _so_ uncomplicated. We're just as bad as they are."

Serena's breath hitches in her throat. "And look at the way _you_ say _that_, like there is an…_us_."

Nate smiles softly at her as if she's being too cute in her denial. "Serena, there has _always_ been an _us_."

She whispers, "Yeah," trailing off as she turns onto her side, tucking her whole body against his as he remains flat on his back. She plays with his tie just because. "I've missed you, too, you know."

His hand runs down the length of her arm softly and slowly and she cuddles into him. "You're wearing my shirt," he observes.

"I am not," she protests, but when she glances down at herself, she realizes that she is. She'd forgotten where this shirt came from. "Wow, I guess I…am. I've had this for what feels like forever."

That's how everything is with him. Something like forever, but not quite there.

Her blue eyes search his. She's always loved that their eyes match. "If you're waiting for _my_ proposition, it's not going to happen," she tells him loftily, grasping at levity.

"Oh, yeah?" His nose brushes hers and she shivers even though her whole body is incredibly warm. "You'd turn me away?"

Her breathing is shallow and quick. "You know I wouldn't."

"Dan…and Vanessa…" He sighs, his gaze falling on her lips. "It's just one night, right?" he murmurs.

She nods. It seems like that's the way it always is for them. They never get their shot, they get snippets of possibility, momentary escapes from the craziness of the real world. _Just one night_. Every now and then, they get those nights, and that's all.

"Yeah," she says faintly, and then they're both done holding back.

She's missed _him_. The way his lips capture hers perfectly, the way he tastes, the way his hands feel against her skin, the way he grins up at her when she effectively rolls onto him, forcing him onto his back. She straddles him and his hands get lost in her hair and it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

He rolls them over, pinning her back to the bed, and she giggles breathlessly, reaching up toward him, her arms tangling around his neck. She figures out that, on some level, they've been pining for each other since she thought she killed Pete and ran out of the UES as fast as her Jimmy Choos would take her. She wonders what would have happened had she never left.

Even when she came back, she still felt it; that pull to Nathaniel Archibald, that longing for him. She wants his laughter and the goofy things he says, the way his lips feel on her neck, the way he cheers when he's won a lacrosse game, the way it feels to wake up with him in her bed.

He pulls away, gently tucking her hair back behind her ear, and she wonders if he's changing his mind, if he doesn't want this as badly as she does. He gives her that smile that he's always seemed to reserve just for her, that light in his perfect eyes, and her worries fade away.

"Do you think about that night?" he asks quietly, his voice husky and low.

Serena's fingertips rest gently against his cheek. One of his arms holds his weight off of her while his other hand slowly begins to sneak under her shirt. She feels a rush of affection toward him that is so powerful it almost takes her breath away. "All the time," she says mutedly. "I held onto that memory, onto you. You were like the calm before the storm."

"Me, too. I mean, I held onto it. I…I always wished that you'd stayed."

She sighs. She does, too, but in other ways, she doesn't. What if she had stayed and nothing had changed? What if she woke up in the morning, missing him already, and he was still Blair's boyfriend, still her future husband? In the strangest, saddest way, she'd rather things this way.

Because at least she gets him for these nights.

Her fingers slip into his hair at the back of his head, gliding down the nape of his neck. If this is all she gets, she doesn't want to waste time talking. She locks her eyes with his, blue and blue, oceans and rainstorms and misery and something beautiful.

"Make love to me," she says softly, her voice barely a whisper, because there's no other way to describe sex with Nate.

She's loved him on the deepest of levels since before she even knew exactly what love was and how many forms there were. Nate was, in a way, her first introduction to such a powerful emotion.

She's had feelings for him for so long, and there's something permanent and unfading about those feelings. Her chest tightens sometimes when she sees him laughing with Vanessa, her throat burns when she sees him talking to Blair. She's not the jealous type because she gets what she wants and she's used to things being that way.

Except for Nate. Always her exception.

* * *

"You good?" he murmurs, something tender and sweet in his voice as she sighs, snuggling into him, her body still tingling.

"More than," she whispers, kissing his shoulder before she rests her head there.

Nate heaves a reluctant sigh. "Maybe I should –"

"Don't go," she insists, clinging to him.

"Okay," he says, kissing her hair. He rests his head against hers and they're both silent for a while.

And then she feels it, realizes what's happening. She shoots up, clutching the sheet loosely to her chest, and shakes his shoulder. "Nate! Don't you dare fall asleep on me!"

"But…" He chuckles sleepily, confused by what she's trying to tell him. He grabs her and pulls her body back to his, their foreheads resting together. "Why not?" he asks suggestively.

Serena rolls her eyes. "I'm hungry."

"For food, I'm guessing…"

"Come on," she tells him lightly, pressing her lips quickly to his. "Let's go get something to eat."

"But…your family…"

"Getting caught is half the fun," she insists, reaching for the floor and grabbing the t-shirt that she now knows is his and pulling it over her head. "Nate," she adds softly, sensing his hesitance. "You'd turn me down?" she asks, playing on the words he'd said to her earlier.

"Never," he sighs, reaching for his boxers. She leaves the room without waiting for him, sure and secure in the knowledge that he'll follow her.

If this night is all she gets, they're going to make the most of it.

He raids the fridge while she sits on the kitchen counter, kicking her legs out lazily, because this is the way they've been doing it since they were little kids. He can't find anything good, so she orders taco salad from this place she knows is open all night, insisting that he'll love it. He stands in front of her, lets her wrap her long legs around his waist, and kisses her as she sits there on the counter.

That's when she realizes that he wants to say _not as much as I love you_ and it somehow warms her heart and breaks it all at once.

They eat brownies while they wait for their salad to arrive; she sits partially on his lap as they lounge on the couch, giggling about memories they've shared and she finds that all of her best moments have involved him somehow. She kisses him in between the stories they tell, whispering against his lips. This is how it's meant to be for them.

When the delivery guy shows up, she groans into his mouth and has to force herself to stand, heading to the door.

"No…" he protests, grabbing her hand in that way that makes her feel so protected and yet so energized.

"It's the best salad ever," she tells him gently, leaning down to kiss him one more time. "I promise, it's worth it."

He laughs. "You are _not_ answering the door like that," he says firmly, referring to the fact that she's only wearing her (his) t-shirt.

She tilts her head, something she can't put a name to forcing her lips to curl up into a smile. Half of this city has seen more of Serena van der Woodsen than they ever should have, so she finds it particularly touching that he'd bother being protective of her, as if she should only be his.

Nate stands to answer the door and she clasps his hand in both of hers, wearing her most adorable pout. "But what if the delivery guy is actually a girl? Or, oh my God, what if he's gay?"

He laughs in that way that lets her know he loves her silliness. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying what you're saying."

"And what is that, exactly?"

She closes the distance between them, pressing her body against his, revelling in the feeling of the way they fit together. Her nose brushes his. "You tell me."

"I'm saying that you look really…_sexy_ right now, and I don't want to share that with anyone."

"I never want to share you with anyone."

She doesn't know what makes her say it; but it happens, it's out there, and it changes everything. No matter what she feels for him, no matter what she suspects he feels for her, there's an unspoken agreement between the two of them to leave it all that way: unspoken.

He looks trapped and she hates it. She takes a big step away, shaking her hands from his, "Just go get the door," she murmurs.

When she decides to keep a secret, she's good at it. She can lock things in her heart and never let them out, even if that means they may eventually come out and bite her in the ass.

But Nate was always her exception.

* * *

They don't talk about it again because that's how they work. They eat their amazing taco salad and retreat to her bedroom again, hiding away as dawn approaches.

Serena sighs contentedly as she snuggles into his arms. After a playful battle, she got control of the remote, and now she's flipping through all of the channels, searching for something to watch.

"We used to do this all the time. Remember?"

"I remember," he says softly, and she reads more into his tone and his words and the way his arms tighten around her than he probably should.

"Aha!" she says victoriously, breaking up the serious air between them. "Here we go. Either this will actually be good, or so bad that it's funny."

"You haven't seen it already?"

"Hell, no," she giggles, tilting her chin up to look at him adoringly. "Why would I watch something that I'd already seen?"

"To know the ending. You know, to make you feel safe."

She raises her eyebrows pointedly. "Surprises are the best part of life."

Nate nods as she weaves her fingers through his. His thumb strokes her knuckles gently.

"Besides," she murmurs, "I already feel safe."

He kisses the top of her head, and then her temple, her cheek, the corner of her mouth. She sighs, turning toward him and breathing him in before kissing him languidly. She never wants this night to end.

Nate takes the remote about her unresisting hands and flicks the TV off.

"Don't you want to know how it ends?" she murmurs, gently moulding her body to his, her anxious fingers pushing impatiently the waistband of his boxers.

He grins and she's reminded as to why they do this. "Surprise me," he growls against her lips, and all she can do is kiss him.

She has rules about cheesy lines and extended metaphors. She doesn't think of herself as someone who falls so far that she's all starry-eyed and spouting Shakespeare or saying sugary things.

And yet Nate has always been her exception.

* * *

The next morning, she throws her curtains open and pretends not to watch as the sunlight wakes him up. She sits in a chair in her silky robe, thrown on so loosely and lazily that she's almost, but not quite, baring all. She props her leg up on the windowsill and paints her toenails the same colour blue as his eyes and her eyes.

The brightness of the room has him sitting up, blinking in confusion, reality catching up with him. He dresses hastily in the silence and she internally begs him to just leave without saying anything.

"Serena…"

She squeezes her eyes shut for just a second before wrenching them open and turning to look at him, praying that her shiny eyes will appear to him to be watery due to the glare of the sun. "It's okay, Nate. It was just one night," she tries to sound reasonable but bitterness seeps in, "That's all we ever have."

He nods weakly, meekly, and for a split second she crosses that thin line between love and hate. But then she's back and the sight of her stupid _toenails_ has her blinking back tears.

Nate pauses in the doorway and takes a breath so deep that she feels compelled to inhale in preparation for something as well. "You know, Serena…" He sighs. "One day you won't run. And one day I won't have the strength to walk away."

"One _day_, huh?" she asks, noting the change in the timeframe.

He nods, more sure of himself this time, and his words sound like a promise: "One day."

She chucks a pillow at him and manages to smile. "Get outta here."

His smile is bashful and pretty much adorable. "I'll see ya."

"Yeah, you better," she murmurs as she watches him go.

She's always talked about nights and she's never said goodbye.

Though her exception has always been Nate.

* * *

Patience has never been Serena van der Woodsen's virtue of choice. She's used to instant gratification. She wishes for it, she gets it. Waiting as never been something she was good at.

But then again…


End file.
